


Till the End

by deanna_s_winchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2kgfc, Angst, Cancer, F/M, Fanfiction, Mild Language, SPN - Freeform, supernatural fanfiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 16:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16896099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanna_s_winchester/pseuds/deanna_s_winchester
Summary: Characters: Dean x Reader, SamWord Count: 2,451 wordsWarnings: Angst, mild languageA/N:  Wrote this for a tumblr challenge (@theworldiscolorful  2k Glorious Followers Challenge!) Feedback is greatly appreciated, I’d love to know what you think!





	Till the End

**Author's Note:**

> Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam
> 
> Word Count: 2,451 words
> 
> Warnings: Angst, mild language
> 
> A/N: Wrote this for a tumblr challenge (@theworldiscolorful 2k Glorious Followers Challenge!) Feedback is greatly appreciated, I’d love to know what you think!

Cancer.

You never knew that such a small six letter word could wreak such havoc and despair on your soul. It oozed through you destroying any hope for any type of future that you’d ever had. Getting out of the life, settling down, kids…it was all gone.

You stared down at the white folded piece of paper in your trembling hands, sitting in the small steril room at the hospital. Non-Hodgkin lymphoma was scrawled across the top in stiff bold lettering. You didn’t know why they’d bothered with the pamphlet, the doctor had already told you all of the information inside of it, plus some. Had told you that what you had was growing fast, that you had anywhere from 6 months to a year before…before…

The doctor had said to take your time and you had no idea how long you had been sitting there feeling empty. Feeling lost. The phone in your pocket had been buzzing intermittently for a while, probably Sam or Dean wanting to know what was going on, but you couldn’t bring yourself to slip into the positive demeanor that you’d been wearing as a mask since your trips to the doctor had started. They knew you weren’t feeling well but you never let on just how bad it was, hadn’t wanted them to worry. But now…now you didn’t know how you were going to keep this from them. If you should keep this from them.

You stood slowly, body protesting after being in the same position for so long, and exited the room. The nurses you walked past as you made your way out either smiled at you sympathetically or averted their gaze completely. You weren’t sure which was worse. Shoving your hands into your jacket pockets, you ducked your head and stared at the floor until you were outside. A cool autumn wind tousled your hair as you walked down the sidewalk to where you’d parked your car. Your phone buzzed again insistently against your chest and you finally withdrew it from your pocket. A slew of texts and calls from the boys met your gaze and guilt settled in your belly. Opening one of the texts from Sam, you typed out a short message letting him know you were on your way back. He replied almost instantly telling you to drive safe and that he was happy you were ok.

But you weren’t. You weren’t ok at all.

You arrived at the bunker at 8:00pm and your appointment had been at noon. You’d been gone for eight hours. You couldn’t blame the boys boys for being frantic when their calls had gone unanswered. Your hand gripped tightly onto the railing as you descended the stairs to the war room, legs wobbly and unsure. They were sitting in the library, Sam pouring over books filled with supernatural lore and Dean drinking a beer as he surfed on his laptop. Both of their heads shot up when they heard the door close and were out of their chairs on high alert when they saw the sunken and drained appearance of your face. It hit you right in the gut then that there was no way you were going to be able to keep this from them unless you left, and you didn’t want to do that. 

“Y/N, what is it?” Sam asked, worry wrinkling the features of his face.

Your eyes darted to Dean and saw that he wore an equally concerned look. Something inside of you broke and the tears that had been building up inside of you all day began to pour down your face. You threw out your arms and grabbed each of them around the waist as sobs wracked your body. The boys shared an alarmed glance but immediately wrapped their arms around you.

“We’re here, Y/N. Shhhh it’s ok,” Sam said trying to sooth you, but it just made you cry harder.

Dean kissed the top of your head and stroked his fingers up and down your back. It felt nice and you tried to focus on that feeling. After you had settled down some you pulled back and swiped at your watery eyes. They both stared at you and followed without hesitation as you mutely walked over to the table in the library, sitting down in one of the middle chairs on one side with a soft squeek of the wheels.

You didn’t meet their gaze as you pulled out the now crinkled pamphlet from your pocket and tossed it across the table to them. Neither of them reached for it, could see what it was from where it had landed. Those words sitting there like a flame that had sucked all of the oxygen out of the room.

“This is where you were today?” Sam asked and you nodded. He shook his head. “Y/N, why didn’t you say anything?" 

When you looked at him you could see tears shimmering in his eyes, and you felt terrible for being the cause. "Because I didn’t want you to worry,” you croaked out. “You guys have more than enough to worry about without me bringing a mystery illness to the table.” You lowered your gaze, embarassed. 

“Y/N you should have told us, we’re family,” Sam sighed, eyes dipping down to the paper before moving back up to you. “What did they say? Is there a treatment plan?”

You started to fiddle with the sleeve of your jacket as you continued to stare into your lap. “There isn’t a treatment plan. The doctor said I could go through chemo and radiation, but it would only buy me a few months at the most, and my quality of life would drop significantly,” your voice cracked as you parroted the words that you had been told.

“Y/N…” Sam started, and you could hear the strain of sadness in his voice.

Guilt coarsed anew through your veins, and you stood up, the back of your legs rolling the wheeled chair back a few feet as you did. “It’s been a long day, I think I’m just going to turn in if that’s ok.” Your gaze traveled between Sam and Dean, who still hadn’t said anything, before you left the library and headed down the hall. 

Halfway to your room you heard a loud slam and heavy footsteps walking in the opposite direction. You sighed as you reached your bedroom and retreated behind the door.

You’d been out almost as soon as you’d hit the bed and slept like the dead. When you finally woke hours later, mouth burning for something to drink, it was nearly 3am. You sat up gingerly, slowly sliding your legs over the side of the bed until the pads of your feet touched the cool floor. Standing you slid a hand over your face trying to clear at least some of the sleep induced fog from your mind.

The air outside of your room was chilly and you wrapped your arms around yourself in an attempt to calm the goose bumps that had pimpled across your bare skin. 

When you reached the kitchen you felt along the wall for the light switch, letting out a small yelp of surprise when, as you flicked them on, the harsh lights illuminated a figure hunched over the counter.

“Damnit Dean!” you exclaimed moving your hand to you chest. “Why are you sitting in the dark like some sort of creep?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugged, raising the bottle in his hand to his lips and taking a long drink. It wasn’t his first beer of the evening, or rather morning. He was surrounded by brown glass bottles, and as you made your way to the fridge for a bottle of water you wondered how long he had been sitting in here. “What are you doing up?" 

Holding up the water in answer you closed the refrigerator door and walked over to stand opposite him, unscrewing the cap and bringing the plastic container to your lips. The cool water felt like heaven to your parched mouth and you sighed with relief as you gulped it down. When you lowered the bottle, it was to find Dean looking at you with something unreadable in his eyes. "You ok?" 

He looked down, fingers fiddling with the torn beer lable. He seemed to be struggling internally with something, as if he didn’t know what to say or if he even wanted to say it. He cleared his throat, eventually settling on an "I’m sorry.”

You gave him a look. “For what?”

His eyes met yours and you saw pain and regret swirling in their deep green depths. “For not realizing how much you’ve been suffering. For being so selfish and blind. For not doing this sooner,” he said. Dean stood, his gaze never leaving you, as he walked around to your side of the counter. You couldn’t help but stare at him, completely dumbfounded as he pulled you into his arms, hesitating only momentarily as his eyes searched yours, before lowering his lips to cover your own.

It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t thought about what it would be like to kiss Dean, and if you were being really honest with yourself, you’d dreamed of it happening since the moment you’d met him. After moment of surprise you closed your eyes and kissed him back, forgetting temporarily about the thoughts plaguing your mind and the disease ravaging your body.

You felt Dean’s hands gripping your hips, holding you against him, breathing your name against your lips between kisses. Shivvers traveled down your spine that turned into a sinking feeling in your gut as a thought suddenly struck you. Jolting out of Dean’s arms you raised a hand to your lips as your eyes darted up to his. “I’m sorry,” you forced out in a strangled voice before bolting from the kitchen.

When the door to your room was closed and you were safely leaned up against it, tears were falling down your face and you were struggling against the tightness in your chest to breathe.

Stupid

Of course he’d only kissed you out of pity. You were dying and he felt bad for you. Renewed despair settled in your belly like a heavy weight, dragging you down to the floor with your head in your hands. You wanted to throw up. Closing your eyes you took in shaking deep breaths, trying to concentrate of the steady flow of air into and out of your lungs.

A knock on the door behind you shattered any shred of calm that you had reclaimed and fresh tears began to fall. “Y/N, please sweetheart, open up,” came Dean’s deep voice.

You took a few stuttering breaths before you responded. “Go away, Dean.” You sounded so broken and you hated that, and you knew that Dean wasn’t going to just leave you alone sounding the way you did.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, the defeat in his voice clear.

You opened your mouth to say something, unsure of what that something was, when a wave of nausea swept through you and you without a doubt knew that you were going to be sick. Getting your feet beneath you, you stood and threw open the door shooting past Dean and down the hall to the bathroom, bile rising quickly in your throat. You weren’t sure you were going to make it and you slapped a hand over your trembling mouth as you threw open the bathroom door and threw yourself down in front of the toilet.

Dean was right behind you, holding your hair behind you as your stomach rid itself of its contents. It wasn’t much, mostly just the water that you’d drank while you were in the kitchen. After your body was done you slumped to the side, head resting against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. Slowly you became aware of Dean rubbing his fingers up and down your back, the hand that had been holding your hair moving around your middle to pull your body back against his. Lacking the energy and will power to fight against him you let it happen, closing your eyes and trying to breathe calmly.

“Why did you run away from me?” he asked quietly after some time. His head was leaned against yours and his warm breath tickled against the shell of your ear.

“I’m not stupid, Dean. I know you only kissed me out of pity. You never would have done it if I didn’t have this….this…..” you took a breath. “If I wasn’t dying.”

“You’re right, I probably wouldn’t have,” he said and you stiffened against him. You tried to sit up but he tightened his arms against you. “But that’s only because I’ve been blind to my own feelings, and it took this horrible disease to make me realize how I feel about you. I didn’t kiss you out of pity, Y/N. I kissed you out of love.”

Eyes shooting open you rotated in his arms to look at him. “You…” you searched his face, finally landing on his eyes. They gazed into yours, drawing you in and affirming his words to you. “Dean…” you whispered, feeling overwhelmed. So many thoughts and emotions had torn through you in the past 24 hours and you were fatigued from it all.

Sensing your exhaustion, and mildy satisfied that you were no longer going to be sick, Dean picked you up and carried you back to your room. Maneuvering past the door he laid you on the bed, pulling the covers up and over your feeble form and kissed your forehead. As he turned to go you grabbed his hand and gently tugged him back. “Will you stay with me? Please?” Your voice was soft and pleading. You needed him.

He looked down at you and nodded his head. Wordlessly he removed his boots and his flannel before closing the door and climbing into the bed next to you. Shifting onto his back he held his arms open and you snuggled into his chest. You sighed and closed your eyes as you felt his arms wrap around you, holding you tight as he began humming softly. You felt your body relax as you melted into him, his warmth seeping into you. “Dean?” you said, dancing on the fine line between wakefulness and sleep.

“Yeah sweetheart?" 

"I love you too,” you said quietly. “I want to spend the little time I have left with you and only you.”

His arms subtley tightened around you and his soft lips pressed against your forehead. “I will be with you, until the very end.”


End file.
